


Reached

by ScarletteStar1



Series: Jane and Sylvie [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Forbidden Love, Love, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27887320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Summary: So these characters are rolling around in my mind and I have a bunch of random scenes for them so I'm just going to write them and see what happens. . .  thank you so much if you took the time to read, and if you feel like leaving a comment or just saying hello, I love hearing from you and always try to connect with my readers. xoxoxo
Series: Jane and Sylvie [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050728
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Reached

Neither of them liked eating alone. Jane’s husband owned a chain of boutique hotels on several continents, and he travelled a lot. Jane said it was both the secret to the longevity of their marriage and her slender figure. Sylvie marveled at this, but then suggested a bunch of restaurants they could try when Harold was out of town.

“You need sustenance to keep your wits about you if you are going to be treating the witless,” Sylvie joked one evening.

“Hush!” Jane pretended to be mortified, but she grinned. “You know you cannot say those types of things if you want to stay employed here. Not to mention if you want that fellowship.”

Sylvie rolled her eyes. “Being PC is so overrated,” she groaned. “Anyway, you need to have some humor to stay alive in this profession.”

“You also need some humanity, my Sweetness,” Jane scolded gently but she agreed to supper at a small, upscale bistro. They were seated at a cozy, corner table lit by a candle.

“You know I took your class, right?” Sylvie said after they shared an appetizer and were well into their second glass of wine.

“What? No! Which one?”

“Differential Diagnosis for Abnormal Psychiatric Populations in Congregate Care. Three years ago?”

“Oh, Gosh. That was not my favorite class. I only taught it one semester and then begged them never to make me do it again. You were in that class?”

“Yes, you don’t remember me?”

“I’m afraid I don’t. How did you do? Did I grade you terribly hard? I seem to recall getting a lot of complaints from angry students. Were you one of them?”

“Nope. I got a perfect score. Four point oh.” Sylvie raised her glass as if toasting an invisible guest and downed the rest of her beverage. She’d worked particularly hard in that class, not because she was overly engaged in the material, but because she had a huge crush on the professor. She didn’t mention this detail as Jane reached to refilled Sylvie's glass.

“You’re joking.”

“Of course I am not joking. This surprises you?”

“Well, it shouldn’t surprise me at all. You’re brilliant.” Jane shook her head and seemed to blush, but it might have just been the wine. “You never told me this.”

“I’m telling you now.” Sylvie had managed to wedge one of her legs up against Jane’s under the table. The physicality of their friendship was natural to them, but strange to try to explain. Without acknowledging it verbally, they were not affectionate at the office or in front of mutual contacts. They didn’t discuss their closeness or the way they reached for one another as if they’d known one another for decades as opposed to the short time in which they’d been acquainted. Sylvie sensed tension coil in Jane; a simultaneous enjoyment at wanting her near while also wanting to keep their professional boundaries intact. Had anyone Jane known entered the restaurant at that moment, Sylvie knew there would be an immediate distance placed between them, that Jane would make a casual excuse about them having a working dinner. If any introductions were made Sylvie would be called something neat and professional.

Sylvie wondered if the tables were turned how she would introduce Jane to a friend or someone from one of her classes. _The brilliant psychiatrist who wrote that book I won’t stop talking about? The older woman who’s perfume I dragged you to the mall to smell samples of but couldn’t afford to buy for myself? My boss? A dear friend? The human who has wrapped herself around my brain and wakes me up in the middle of the night throbbing and wet and wanting and lonely?_

None of it seemed particularly accurate.

There must have been a part of her that was already in love with Jane at that point, but would not allow her to know it. As she looked across the tiny table at the stately older woman with her perfect posture and delicate, blonde bob, Sylvie scoffed and shook her head. _For someone so smart you know fuck all,_ she wanted to say.

“Dessert?” Jane asked with a mischievous smile.

“Yeah and more wine. Or maybe let’s do some Prosecco?”

“You’re not driving, right?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, well, you better not come in hungover tomorrow morning. I hear your boss is a real stickler about that kind of thing, young lady.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Jane walked her to the train station, arm in arm. They were both pleasantly buzzed and their slurring voices created steam in the frigid, winter air. “Get home safe,” Jane said and kissed her on the cheek. Sylvie stumbled down the steps into the station and caught the train just as it was coming in. All the way home, she felt Jane’s lips on the apple of her cheek.

She had just finished washing her face and was getting into bed when her phone buzzed. “Hey, Jane,” she picked up instantly. Typically when she called this late it was because there was something important related to work that needed attention.

“Hello you,” Jane’s voice sounded warm and sticky like maybe she’d had a couple more drinks when she got home. “You know you’re right?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I got home and opened my file for that course. And I re read your papers.”

“Oh?”

“Not only did you get a perfect grade, you got the only perfect grade in that class. I don’t know how I could have forgotten, but the moment I looked at your paper I remembered. Good God, Little One.”

Sylvie’s cheeks burned as she pulled back her covers and climbed between them. “Well, I must say that’s gratifying,” she said.

“Don’t be gratified, Sylvie. You’re brilliant. I hope I didn’t wake you. I just wanted to tell you.”

“You didn’t wake me,” she whispered. She slid her hand up her night shirt and flicked her fingers over her nipples. She wondered how she could keep Jane on the phone all night. “Anyway, it’s not every night a girl gets a call from one of the world’s preeminent doctors just calling to tell her she’s a smarty pants.”

“What are you even doing working for me, Sylvie?” Jane breathed. “You could be doing anything. With a brain like yours.”

There were any numbers of answers to that question, none of which Sylvie wanted to delve into. “Oh, Jane,” she fumbled. She had her whole breast in her hand and was squeezing it. “Ask me anything else.”

“No. I’ll let you get some rest. See you in the morning?” Jane said.

If Sylvie hadn’t known Harold was out of town, she’d have thought for sure Jane was keeping her voice low to keep their conversation a secret. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but she hung up and turned off the light and reached her hand down lower and she thought about how Jane had called her _Little One_.

**Author's Note:**

> So these characters are rolling around in my mind and I have a bunch of random scenes for them so I'm just going to write them and see what happens. . . thank you so much if you took the time to read, and if you feel like leaving a comment or just saying hello, I love hearing from you and always try to connect with my readers. xoxoxo


End file.
